Sophie Morgan at Bloomsbury Art Fair

Bloomsbury Art Fair 2012 was a great affair; an eclectic mix of beautiful art and photography in Goodenough College on Mecklenburgh Square. 

Though the level of talent being exhibited was truly fabulous, one artist in particular caught my eye. It was initially the paintings of water that captured my attention; having focused on Hopper and water in my A-Level art, I appreciated that depicting water is no easy feat. The painter was Sophie Morgan. 

I spent some time looking at her interesting and beautiful pieces; in an incredible range of media - pencil drawings, blind drawings, paintings. It was only after a few minutes that I realised Sophie was in a wheelchair. In the way I think everyone does, I was immediately curious as to what lead to this. I did not realise her story (http://sophiemorgan.com/about/) would be so incredible. Every time I think about it, I want to cry. It does not seem, however, that Sophie has dealt with what life has thrown at her in this way. That doesn’t stop one wanting to cry - but it becomes not out of sadness for her but for utter incredulousness at her unerring bravery.

I think Sophie’s story struck a chord with me (as it probably does for all, for a variety of reasons) as I have sisters at that stage in life. Furthermore, I have felt on that brink of the next “stage” having recently finished university. I find it very easy to get too wrapped up in the banal trials and tribs of day to day life but in the same way a friend’s death last summer did, Sophie’s story gives one perspective. It feels silly to beat yourself up about not managing to write a blog post everyday, to be irritated at smashing a face powder, at an expensive phone bill. It gives you a shake up and is inspiring in a way that catches in your throat every time you think about it.

Radio preferences

I love Radio 4 but it just seems to be people constantly moaning at the moment. 

The “Graduate Special” the other day was ludicrous. Some graduate-lings talking about not getting replies to emails or feedback to job applications. Forgive me, scoffing at your naivety but the sooner you stop being so weedy, the sooner you will be in my position - a cynical radio listener scoffing at the next round of graduates.  

And don’t get me started on Olympic feed back ... people moaning about queues for food! When do you not have to queue for food? Whether it is to receive someone’s mother’s fish pie or at a fast food emporium. I mean, Olympically-speaking I am impressed. The opening ceremony looked good to me. I like the English ability to laugh at one’s self - although I agreed that the rest of the world must think we are completely bonkers. To be honest the fact that none of those cycling birds fell over will keep me going throughout the inconveniences of the next month. 

If you want something a little more upbeat, switch occasionally over to ABS80s. Absolute 80‘s, which will “keep you up to date” - as IF that would be your radio station of choice if you wanted to stay on top of your world issues. The funniest bit about the station is their “no repeat guarantee”. True, no song is played more than once a day, but come midnight it is exactly the same songs, day after day. Still good though.

Damien Hirst: A Retrospective

Amongst flurries of scathing and adoration, Damien Hirst is exhibiting his retrospective works at the Tate Modern until 9th September.

The exhibition demonstrates his ongoing obsession with the most dark and real areas of life, and the reason why he attracts so much controversy.  

From shock-inducing maggots and bleeding cows heads, to floating beach balls and stinking giant ash trays; the exhibition is a bombardment on the senses. 

It is interesting to perceive Hirst’s interest in values and beliefs, religion and science, appreciation for colour and nature, and his all too well-documented obsession with death and money in one all-encompassing exhibition. 

Whatever you like, their is something here for you. Shock factor? You will not be disappointed; from clowns discussing death, to dead animals in all stages of maggot-covered decay. Colour? Hirst’s spin and spot paintings which celebrate and control colour, respectively. Nature lovers? Hirst exhibits the cycle of life in an incredible way (think, pupa to live butterflies), and his works, such as “Doorways to the Kingdom of Heaven” which is a triptych of stained glass-looking windows made of butterfly wings, appreciate the beauty of nature.

Throughout the eleven rooms, there was the niggling quotes of recent Hirst-haters in the back of my mind. I was torn between mulling over the ongoing “What is art?” debate; especially when I saw an escaped fly from “A Thousand Years” in a different room, and feeling equally scathing towards quotes such as “I try and say something and then deny it”.

Go and see what you make of the exhibition and Damien Hirst, "one of the most important and highly regarded artists of his generation", for yourself - in the Tate Modern until September 9th 2012.

(Written for Insider London ages ago - http://insidertrends.squarespace.com/insider-london-tours-blog/)

Yoko Ono at The Serpentine

I went to the ‘Yoko Ono: To The Light’ exhibition when I was at a loose (and poor) end today after a luncheon meet ended an hour or so early. From Lancaster Gate the little walk across Kensington Gardens was very pleasant, and I found The Serpentine with relative ease (not thanks to the labyrinthical trail of maps and signs, that are about as helpful as that stupid scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz).

As someone who thinks, predominantly, of Ono as John Lennon’s wife (I don’t think I am in the minority), I was interested to see her artworks - especially after some pretty scathing reviews. I find that a very interesting prospect; like seeing a film a friend has walked out of. 

The exhibition was interesting. Using a variety of media, Ono tests the boundaries between “the artist and the viewer”, and the interaction between the viewer and the art in the gallery space. This may have been more effective had it not been exhibited in England. The extent of the interaction I witnessed was an old woman walking over a piece of fabric (which I don’t even know if she knew was there); to which a man said: “You are the first person I’ve seen treading on that fabric”. Presumably he was making reference to the title of the piece: “Fabric to be trodden on” (or something similar). I don’t know whether this was just some elderly chat-up line, instigated by her renegade actions, but it did make me aware of how totally un-interactive everyone was being. Maybe this was due to the fact that one isn’t allowed to interact in any tactile way with the works, as was confirmed by Michael Glover of The Independent. 

The much talked-about pieces of performance art, “Cut Piece” (1964 and 2003) - which involved Ono sitting and audience members cutting her dress - were interesting. I, maybe wrongly, assume that the earlier ‘Cut Piece’ were not filmed in England as the concept of sexual domination seems only to be being normalised with the recent publication of “Fifty Shades of Grey”, let alone 1964 which was when the piece was performed. 

The films showing were conceptually interesting and impressive for their time. With subjects varying from kissing, to ‘Bottoms’ and nipples (granted, not a terribly varied selection), they were compelling - mostly due to the fact that John Lennon features in them. The abstract poetry gracing the walls in the same room also made for an interesting read. 

The wish-tree was a nice finishing touch; with predictable things like “world piece” which, for me, emphasised the obviousness of some parts of the exhibition in an irritating way, but with others, for example; ones about ill family members and “I wish for a smaller chin” which evoked warmer emotions towards the writer.

All in all, it was an interesting and thought-provoking exhibition; which I would recommend highly to others, although not one’s that are too artistically snobby. 

26th May - ‘Lonely Hearts Comedy Club’ @ RICHMIX

I didn’t realise when I signed up for a night of comedy in Shoreditch that 1) it was a singles night, and 2) it would be one of the funniest evenings of my life.

The first is surprising, you may think; it being called ‘Lonely Hearts Comedy Club’ (I didn’t know this vital piece of information before I walked in and was met by Julie and Julian, and a choice of coloured stickers representing my level of single-ness. My idea of hell - as I toe the line between lighthearted fun-lover and English prude very gingerly), but the second could not have been predicted. 

Julie and Julian were hilarious comperes and held the evening together perfectly; their comic demeanors and complimentary dynamic was contagious. Even their match-making was impressively unintimidating. 

First on, comedy quad, Oyster Eyes, had me laughing to that point where you know it is not really acceptable but you cant help it. Honed to awkward perfection their sketches were unfathomably random and stomach-hurtingly funny. 

Alp Haydar, in all honesty, was one of the weirdest things I have ever seen (but was trumped by a later act). Covering personal and political issues, in an often grotesque manner depicted in actions and animations, he managed to toe the line between petrifying and hilarious very impressively. 

Frank and likeable drag queen and cabaret sensation, Michael Twaits, was fabulous. Doing Barbara and Donna with glamourous aplomb, and telling stories from the New York heyday, his set and involvement of the unsuspecting audience was intoxicatingly funny.

Dickie Beau’s act was genuinely the strangest thing I have ever seen. Artistically beautiful and creative, he had a beautiful fragility but his set was quite something to stomach - as I think it would be for anyone who had not seen sexual acts performed on a ladder. 

An all round excellent evening; a rollercoaster of humour and emotion, with Kim Noble’s animations provided dark and hilarious stopgaps throughout, washed down by a few “Fat Jan’s Love Lubes”.

Music (not) to watch girls by

An issue has recently come to my attention; once, very offensively; once, embarrassingly; once, amusingly, (actually, there is an overlap between groups) and otherwise, just a normal amount: the music people listen to. 

I have been reading Emma Brockes ‘What Would Barbara Do?’ (incidentally, a hilarious book that I would recommend to anyone whether they like/dislike/loathe musicals) and it got my thinking about peoples music tastes. A lot of people seem to have the same faddy music tastes at the moment ... Dubstep, Techno... What next? Minimal Garage? Liquid pop punk? I am by no means a music buff and as such, have no idea what any of these component parts mean (Give me Dancehall, Classical or some silly pop song and I am a-ok). 

This embarrassing music taste of mine was shown up rather mortifyingly while running. For no explicable reason, 'Call Me Maybe' started playing in tinny chimes out of my phone (I do not mean; why did that specific song start playing, I mean why was it freed from the safe house that are my earphones to inform all passers-by of my incredibly lame running playlist.) I dealt with this nightmare occurrence in the same way one deals with falling over on their own; a failsafe (by failsafe, I mean compromising) casual chuckle to ones self.

I was slowly dealing with the wounds this that slightly traumatising event had inflicted on my ego later that morning on the tube when someone sat in the seat next to me with aggressively loud music, audible from their headphones. Granted I cannot fathom this as I have to listen to my music at a volume which assures not a vibration is audible to any human ear other than my own. I confronted the situation in a classically English manner: I tutted disapprovingly, grimaced, and considered moving to another seat but didn’t want to be dramatic. 

T.G.F grapes

Something feels weird about drinking wine and eating raisins.